


Plastic Man

by thatskinnyguy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Grief, Loss, M/M, Pining, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatskinnyguy/pseuds/thatskinnyguy
Summary: The deviant already had a gun pointed at the room, and all Connor can think of was lieutenant Anderson's alarming 40% chance of survival. It was too low, he can't risk it. Not Hank, never--- [fatal system error-hardware failure detected]Soft warning: this part contains character death (sort of) and another character in the process of grieving.





	1. Hollow Man

**Author's Note:**

> I actually got this event on my first playthrough and quickly returned to the main menu to try again. It was unbearably bittersweet, that huge uptick of Hank's affinity for Connor at the price of his life. It was striking that they rendered that death scene with his eyes closed (compared to the other deaths in the game- life and intelligence fading from the eyes is as striking as it is disturbing). And so I then got Connor to force Simon to self-destruct and get traumatized in the process. Well done me!

Only the thought of Connor kept Hank going when he sobered up after another night of drinking. Mourning. Crying his goddamned eyes out. He tried so hard not to think of the bullet riddled body of his partner when they carried him out of the Stratford tower crime scene, back to Cyberlife. He tried not to think of how much he had wanted to stop them, to personally put Connor to rest in a proper grave. Tried not to think of how they'll open him up, take him apart and pull out every-

'Stop it', he growled under his breath. Being sober while going through this shit was definitely not helping.

He needed to see this investigation through. And for that he also needed a clear head. He can almost hear Connor chastising him from the passenger seat, in his low and calming voice that he should stop drinking so much so he can be useful. Despite himself, he smiled at the half-memory.

He thought of the android's goofy not-smile and those little head tilts. Those brown eyes that were somehow inquisitive and curious, alive and intense. Hank recalled the night he woke up to those eyes just inches from his own, his first thought wondering if he's finally won Russian roulette. 

He thought of how Connor pushed him around his own house and into the shower. He thought of pulling the other man under the spray with him, getting that perfectly styled hair wet and running his fingers through it.

He ended up just ordering him out of the bathroom so he can have a few moments to himself. Hank recalled how he got off the exact second the android knocked on the door, asking if Hank was all right. He shook his head, gripped the steering wheel tighter and cursed the way he got so excited like a teenager from back then. 

Nope, not gonna go there. Not now. It didn't feel right, not after everything that happened just hours ago.

He needed to focus on what he needed to do right now. How he needed to get something, anything, out of Elijah Kamski. 

The man behind the machines. The only one who can shed a light on the what the fuck is really happening with the deviants. This whole shitshow has been totally blown out to hell and back.

It's taken so much from him. His son. And now his partner. In his line of work, death has been a constant, shadowing his every move. He wondered if this shitstorm would finally be the end he's been waiting for so long. 

He's so tired losing people he loved. 

He's tired of being left behind.

Tears ran freely from his eyes again, and he wiped at his face hurriedly with one hand so he can see past the barely visible snowfall. Goddamned androids and their existential crises.

But Hank knew, through the haze of his grief, that they weren't even responsible. These androids never asked for this. They never asked to be made, and now they're waking up to a nightmare where there really was only one way out. They weren't the mistake. They were, at best, a byproduct of the mistake. 

He thought of Connor, how he looked lost and unsure at the back of Eden Club after they both let the deviant girls escape. How he sadly admitted that he didn't want to die, in that roundabout way of his at the park. All while Hank pointed his gun at the android's forehead, goading him into a reaction, anything. He instantly regretted the threat, and stalked off on his own. Always to be alone. 

Well now he got what he wanted. He's never gonna see Connor again. He's never gonna talk to him about stupid crap like rock concerts and will Connor ever eat at Chicken Feed- because if he can put all sorts of shit in his mouth, he might as well enjoy the whole experience.

Hank hysterically laughs through the pain, wishing for the hundredth time that when he turns his head he'll find Connor there, waiting patiently. 

He knew it wasn't going to be easy, even when he's been here before. That he'll be going through the anger, the regret, the guilt, the painful longing- seeing Connor's goofy face everywhere, and then the shaky acceptance that gives him a little break again and again and again. He just needed to finish this. Then maybe 

So when he recognized the figure standing alone in the snow, he supposed he can be forgiven for losing his shit right there and then.

At first he thought he was just seeing things, that he fell asleep at the wheel and just dreamed his partner was back. Because that can't possibly be Connor in his stupid plastic suit and tie, looking like he'd been there a while. Waiting for him.

He took a minute to think about how fucked this all is. He's happy, even relieved to see the prick again, but he's also angry at being cheated with all those embarrassing thoughts and grieving earlier. He wants to grab his partner's shoulders, just to be sure he was really there. Pull him close and 

And then, he doesn't know, punch the bastard or hug him. He's still deciding what to do when his undead partner spoke.

'My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but Cyberlife has transferred its memory and sent me to replace it."

Hank closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. Yep, he was gonna clock the bastard right in his plastic nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You died in my arms... and now you're... back here as if nothing happened...
> 
>  
> 
> Fuck you."


	2. Theme From An Endless Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank welcomes his formerly dead partner back with open arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bit took longer to write, even when I already had the idea of a two-part piece right from the start.

When they emerged once again to the biting cold, Hank felt like hugging Connor now. He's defintely the real deal, not a cheap copy Hank thought he was when he first saw him, standing there in the snow. 

Sure, his memories are intact, that was important, but Connor can recite every single detail of every second they spent together and Hank wouldn't buy any of it. 

Not until he was sure _what_ Connor thought of those moments. And when Hank saw that familiar deer in the headlights expression in his partner's face as he pointed the gun at the girl, Chloe, he knew that Connor was really back with him.

Now he's glad he let Connor decide for himself instead of dragging him forcibly out of there. It was hard, watching him at the brink of that decision, resisting the urge to interfere directly. 

Hank was not so sure how he would have handled it had Connor chosen to shoot that girl for the information Kamski dangled in front of them. How he would then have to mourn the loss of Connor, the real Connor, for the second time. 

It doesn't really matter now. Connor made the right choice and they're back on this case. Together. Hank says this, more or less, as they walk back to the car.

Connor no longer looked lost in thought by the time they got to the highway, but still distant. He made small talk with Hank, but it was obvious he wasn't really in the mood. Hank went for it anyway, maybe because he missed the bastard's voice.

"I was gonna go to Jimmy's for a drink after seeing Kamski, but since you're back now I guess we can head back to the station a lot earlier," Hank half-heartedly groused. 

"That is a reasonable course of action."

Hank tries again, "So, how long did you wait out there in all that snow?"

"I was online for about five minutes before you reached the residence. This unit may have been positioned there earlier, I cannot say." 

"Miss me?"

Connor turned to look at Hank, nonplussed.

"Between the moment of my deactivation, " Hank's hands tightened on the steering wheel at that, "and waking up to see you arrive thirty minutes ago, I'm afraid to say that I have no proper point of reference on the time we were apart." 

"Well, I did. I missed you. I wasn't really expecting to see you again. Ever."

"Was that why you were upset earlier, lieutenant? Because Cyberlife sent a copy to resume the investigation?"

"No, Hank vehemently denies, "because first of all, you're definitely not a copy, what with your 'deciding not to do' bullshit again. You didn't shoot back at the Eden Club and now you just did the same- you're the same plastic prick who bought me a drink when we just met!"

"I _am_ a copy, mister Anderson, a copy with backed-up memories, to mitigate any damage an interruption would have---." 

"Connor, can you just fucking talk to me, for one second, like a real person?!"

Hank finally looked at Connor, taking in his wide-eyed surprise at the outburst. The android opened his mouth, closed it, and ducked his head quickly. He lifted his eyes to meet Hank's and in all earnestness, offered;

"I'm... not a real person." 

There's that lost look in his eyes again. With that little frown that Hank does not find heartbreaking at all. Goddamit. 

"I'm a machine, designed to assist you in this assignment. I thought you knew that." 

If Connor wanted to piss Hank off some more, then that canned speech delivered in that voice- that unsure, fearful tone- did the trick. He swerves to the side of the road and hits the brakes, rounding on his partner.

"Sometimes I don't know if you do this on purpose, switching back and again on your whole... personality. I don't get you! You talk about your mission like it's the only thing that matters, that nothing else is gonna distract you."

"Then you had to play the hero and die! To save my worthless ass! I lost you and now you're back and you don't feel anyth-- Have you ever considered how fucked up all that shit was?? "

Another round of silence passes as Hank tries to get his breathing under control. Fuck these emotions, always messing everything up. Fuck, it hurts so bad. 

Finally, Connor leans closer and whispers softly,

"I'm so sorry, Hank. It was not my intention to make you worry. I would never want to cause you pain, please believe me."

And just like that, his anger was gone. This was different from the apology Connor offered back at Kamski's, when Hank demanded an explanation for his actions. He was defensive then, uncomfortably aware of the contradiction; his orders and what he's actually done.

Now he's less afraid, and more contrite, like he felt really bad that Hank was disappointed. Like Connor failed him. 

Hank closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh.

"You know what, just, just forget it. I get it. You're still figuring things out. I'm-- sorry too for--- this."

They held each other's gazes for a while, until Hank broke away first and started the car once more.

Hank was pretty sure that whatever Connor's going through now, it's not the time to spill their guts out to each other. Especially since both of them aren't really sure what they both want at the moment. 

But he's not gonna let it go just like this.

"After this is all over, we need to talk. About you. Me. About us. Get it? When you decide who you really are, you know where to find me." 

Connor gives a little nod, still staring at Hank.

The dispatch radio suddenly blares to life with Fowler's pissy voice cutting through the sudden quiet in the car.

"Hank, in my office, now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. All 978 words just so I can sort of recreate this really special reference from We Need To Talk. I regret nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> "You died in my arms... and now you're... back here as if nothing happened...
> 
>  
> 
> Fuck you."


End file.
